


Undercover

by Darling_Pigeon



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: First Meetings, mirage annoys bloodhound for 1 hour: the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 18:56:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20394544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darling_Pigeon/pseuds/Darling_Pigeon
Summary: Bloodhound treats themself to a night at the Paradise Lounge, unmasked and casual, their attention quickly swept away by a rather strange bartender.





	Undercover

The Paradise Lounge was no place for an Apex Legend. 

Baking under the setting Solace sun, it was nestled deep within in the city, booming with thunderous activity each and every night. Neon lights lined its outside walls, luring in guests with loud music and ample coverage of the Apex Games. Bloodhound had hesitated at first. Even out of their mask and uniform, they could never truly shake the feeling of being _ watched _. Every eye that lingered too long would set off alarms in their thoughts, pushed out by a checklist of reassurances they repeat to themself in turn.

It felt nice to _ breathe _ without the woodsy aroma of their mask, to sit undisturbed as they imagine anyone would in a place like this. Here, they were _ no one _. They could simply drink, ease the tension in their shoulders, and spend their time watching the various patrons passing by. There was certainly no shortage.

Curious, they thought, that the most fascinating one was right in front of them.

The man behind the counter stood with a glass in his hands, wiping the inside in a repetitive, practiced motion, oddly robotic to anyone unfamiliar with him. Completely unaware, the bartender continued to mechanically shift his weight from heel to toe, heel to toe, turning his head just far enough for Bloodhound to nearly meet his eyes. The cycle repeated; Heel to toe, heel to toe. Feeling like a ghost was not unfamiliar to them, but they were not one to lurk outside of the arena. Not to mention, they would need another drink soon.

Hesitating, they opened their mouth to speak. They caught the words in their throat, narrowing their eyes. There was something _ wrong _.

The light distorted around the edges of the man’s curly hair, like the scorching heat against desert sands. They could barely see it, even with their eyes trained on the sight-- a faint blue glow, radiating from his skin. It lingered, dancing on the edges of his fingertips like a mirage, warping the rays of neon lights as they clashed and bent against the surface. The illusion looped again. And again. And again.

They weren’t sure how long they had been watching. Something as simple as a man cleaning a glass, yet they found themself tilting their head like a bird to catch every imperfection they could. Maybe it was the pixelation nearing the corners of his lips, or the translucence where his bangs met his temples.

“.... Strange.” They whispered under their breath, the faintest smile of interest tugging the corner of their lips. Just as they lifted their glass to take another sip, they were interrupted. 

“You’re impressed?” The voice chimed from further down the counter, as the same man stood with a proud smile, gesturing to the holographic decoy at his side. On cue, the illusion fizzled out, leaving nothing but a faded cloud of blue energy in its place. The look on the hunter’s face must have attracted the man’s attention, much to their dismay. Their poker face returned as they tightened their grip around their glass, instinctual and firm. Wary as the man approached, Bloodhound kept their gazes locked.

“Name’s Elliott,” The bartender stated, playful. “And you are?” 

In an attempt to dazzle his patron, he grabbed a glass from the back wall effortlessly. He flashed a cheeky smile, flipping the glass upright and setting it on the counter before it had a chance to slip from his wobbling hand. Bloodhound squinted at the odd gesture. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.” He interrupted them before they could reply, and they nearly sigh of relief._ Not here for pleasantries _. Sliding to rest an elbow across from them, Elliott waited.  
  
“You have not.” They replied, monotonous, taking another slow sip from their glass, eyes finally drifting from his invasive gaze.

“Hm, the quiet type. I get it.” Elliott smacked his lips, leaning back from the counter. Another flash of blue caught the corner of their eye. They glanced up again, watching carefully as he wiped the already-spotless bar, stepping aside to let his decoy push past to continue the task further down. He had done this before. Many times before. They could tell from the cocky smirk he failed to hide.

_ Introducing your Champion, _ they heard from the monitors in unison _ , _blown out and mangled from the ambient noise of the bar. It felt like a mistake to speak up, but the curiosity burning the back of their throat was too insistent to ignore.

“The decoys.” They began, nodding towards the hologram. “You created them?” Elliott perked up at their inquiry, and for a moment, they felt the crushing regret already setting in. 

“Yes! Well, I guess it wasn’t _ all _me,” he replied, setting aside another glass. “I had some help.”

“Help?” 

They watched in silence as he continued to stack glasses. The task seemed unnecessary--impulsive, maybe. He was lost in thought for a moment before noticing their expectant stare.

“My mom.” He shrugs.

“Oh.” Bloodhound hesitated, unsure if he was serious or not. 

“No, really! She’s an engineer here on Solace. Taught me everything I know about holo-tech, actually-” Elliott caught himself, shaking the overt excitement from his tone. His voice lowered. “It’s pretty neat.”

“They are certainly impressive.” Bloodhound bit their tongue, continuing in a softer voice. “...An odd use for something so advanced.” 

A decoy threw out double finger-guns to a passer-by.

“Hey! It has its perks,” Elliott retorted, resting on both hands now. “The regulars love it! I’ve gotten to know a lot of people around here.” He leans closer, pointing to a table in the back. Sitting together in a corner booth, four (rather obnoxious) men were reclined, pointing and jeering at the screens around the center bar. “Those guys back there? They’re in here _ every _ weekend to watch the games. Kinda loud sometimes, but god, they help keep it interesting.” 

Right. _ The Apex Games _ . The Apex Games in which they were a _ three-time champion _. Bloodhound swore they felt eyes on the back of their neck. Taking another moderated sip, their gaze drifted to the monitors broadcasting above the bar.

“I can imagine the games are popular in places like these.” Their eyes glued to the screen, lost in the familiar imagery of King’s Canyon; the sandy dunes, lush riverbeds and expansive cliff sides, all tainted by the intricate and unforgiving monoliths of old IMC structures.

  
“Oh, absolutely,” Elliott continued, snapping them back to reality. “Especially when _Bloodhound_ is competing.” _Allfather, this was definitely a mistake_. They remained frozen. “The last time they were champion this bar felt like it was going to _explode_. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t on the edge of my seat.” They hid the jolt of paranoia well, turning to flash a forced smile in his direction.

“The games can certainly be intense,” they replied, through gritted teeth. Another sip, their gaze flickering between the Elliott and the screen. Was it already Round 2?

“Did you watch it too? That last fight in the Swamps? Bloodhound just goes absolutely sicko mode and took down the last three legends by themself? That was incred-increb, uh, cool. Super cool.” _ Charming _ is their first thought, before they could help it. They remembered the fight very clearly, they always do. Sloshing through the thick, muddy waters, pulling their squadmates beneath wooden cover as they tracked down their remaining enemies to a single house within the area.  
  
_ Their heart racing against their ribcage, disciplined hands taut on their rifle _ . _ Poor andskoti didn’t stand a chance _. 

Bloodhound tried to relax their grip on the counter, fingers resting near the edge of their glass._ They were no one here _ . The reminder replayed in their thoughts, strengthened by the absolutely _ ridiculous _ expression of a man failing to hide his excitement across from them.

“It was merely their fate,” they mused, shrugging their shoulders, reaching for another drink. Was their smirk too obvious, they wondered? Elliott was distracted, gesturing broadly with his hands, pacing as much as he could while restricted behind the counter. A man with a mouth like his could thrive among company willing to listen.

“And ending the games with that little wave thingy they do? Oh my GOD.” 

With a single hand, he imitated their signature salute. His expression was comparable to smelling something foul. Bloodhound stifled a laugh, allowing their muscles to ease. “It’s champions like them who make me wish I could compete too.” Elliott sighed, sending another decoy across the bar to juggle a glass, leaving behind a faint trail of blue.

  
“Against them?” They tilted their head.

  
“Oh, Jesus Christ,_ no_. NO. Maybe _with _them, I guess.” He entertained the thought. Bloodhound watched his eyes carefully, searching for the words to describe his expression. _Troubled?_ No. However, it was the first time all night they recalled his expression faltering, his voice shrinking to a pathetic mutter. ”But I can’t.”

  
They were interested now.

“Why is that?” They pried, despite everything telling them to take the out, to _ shut up _ . Maybe they were sick of metering their actions, calculating every move like a never-ending hunt… or maybe they were tipsy. “You certainly have the tech.” They motioned with their glass towards the holographic decoys behind Elliott, whose flamboyant displays entertained guests further down the bar. A particularly loud cheer erupted from the back table. _ The Kill Leader has been eliminated._

“Oh, well, uh…” He clicked his tongue, fidgeting with another glass before setting it in line with the rest. “It’s too dangerous. I can’t risk leaving… family, alone.” He peeked an eye open, wary of their reaction.

Bloodhound held their breath. They felt his guilt, cracking through his expression again, masked by another playful smile.

“It is an honorable decision. One should not take matters of the heart lightly.” They raised their brows, as if to say _ relax. _

“You think so?” Elliott laughed in return, sweet and airy, surprised by their agreement.

Bloodhound nodded, suddenly _ very _aware of the feather-light feeling in their head.

“Yeah yeah, okay. But enough about _ me _ ,” Elliott bent even closer, clasping his hands, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “I’ve got something I think you’ll _ love _ , buddy.”

_ Too late now, felagi _. 

  
“Alright, so hear me out,” he nearly whispered, despite the overwhelming static of noise around them. “Apex Games themed drinks.” 

Bloodhound let their eyes swim, first to the monitors, absorbing the crackling of the enclosing ring; next, to the empty glass under their palm, and finally, to the man in front of them, glowing beneath the vibrant neon lights. _ Begin Round 3. _

“...You have my attention.”

\-------

They found it difficult to sit still as Elliott worked his magic, his back turned towards them. With the flair of a classic magician, he set a few small glasses onto the counter, shaking the drinks, pouring them out in small doses. The ice splintered upon contact.

“Here. Try this one,” he insisted, sliding it in front of them. Smile wide, he flared his fingers. _ Ta da. _ “I call it the _ Mozambique. _”

Bloodhound’s lack of hesitation surprised even them. They took a drink, quick and polite, smacking their lips to allow any flavor to set in. _ Oh _.  
  
“I think,” they began. ”This is the worst drink I’ve ever had.”

“_ Exactly _! Isn’t it great?”  
  
“I do not think this is a sustainable business model.” 

“Hm… alright, alright. I have another idea, hang on.” Their eyes track his movements as he offers another drink. For the first time, they made a note of his fingerless gloves. “This one is the _ Kraber _.” 

They nearly keel over. After a small coughing fit, they slammed an open hand on the counter. Elliott seemed _ delighted _.

“...Fitting name,” they choke out, followed by a terse laugh. Their eyes meet again.  
  
“Ah! Now we’re getting somewhere.” 

\-------

The two strangers spent the hour together, arguing over the proper names of drinks, particularly the Prowler (“_ really, Elliott, it should hit harder than this _”), and ignoring the abrupt gasps and thunderous cheers from the other patrons still watching the games around them. Every new kill leader, every new round, all soon became background noise. Elliott spoke too quickly, but they grew used to it. 

Everything he did was far _ too much _, they thought.

Bloodhound was now resting their full weight on the counter, cheek in palm, running a finger over the rim of their empty glass. Their eyes wandered to his.

“I must admit, perhaps you _ could _ join the Apex Games, Elliott,” they said, singing out the syllables of his name. “You could kill with these _ pitiful _ drinks.” 

The bartender gasps, exaggerated and loud, snapping out a decoy to mimic the action. It ran into the wall, fizzling out as quickly as it came.   
  
“Oh please, my decoys? My charm? I’d be a fan favorite in no time,” he joked, posing like the cover of a magazine. “Bloodhound would have nothin’ on me” 

_ So confident. _ They bite their tongue, poorly masking a laugh. The hunter grins, toothy and fearsome, tilting their head in observation. 

“You’re so sure?”

Elliott leaned closer.  
  
“One hundred percent."

It’s in that moment, Bloodhound remembered to breathe. One final, earth-shattering applause erupted from the table behind them, snapping them to reality. How long had they been staring? Overhead, on the large projected monitors, the champion squad of today’s match was displayed. A woman with shaved hair, smokey eyes and a proud grin stood in the center. Snapping their attention back to Elliott, they softened their voice, unsure when they had begun to yell in the first place. 

  
“I’ve overstayed my welcome,” Bloodhound stated as they turned their glass over, sliding it in his direction. “But thank you for your kindness. This was fun.” 

Elliott seemed surprised, unable to hide the disappointment in his eyes, but smiling in return. He nodded. For once, they are thankful he didn’t pry. 

“Come back soon, I’ll have more drinks for you to try, yeah?” He remained on his elbows, watching giddy as they stood up from their seat. Maybe Elliott knew that smile was contagious, or maybe Bloodhound didn’t have the impulse control to hide it anymore. They slid him a generous tip, receiving a wink in return. 

So much for _ no pleasantries. _

As they made their way out of the bar, slinging a large, fur-lined coat over their shoulders, Bloodhound did not turn back. Not even when they could feel Elliott’s eyes on the back of their neck, yearning to pull them back in, surely not even half-way done with his small talk. The man was left trapped behind the confines of the bar. 

“Wait, I never caught your name!” Elliott shouted, nearly drowned out by the noise. Despite everything, despite all of the paranoia lingering on the tips of their nerves, they did not have the urge to run this time. Later they would blame the alcohol for such carelessness.

Instead, they turned their head to the side, just far enough to see him in their peripheral. Pressing two fingers against their temple, they nodded once. A familiar motion. 

A salute.

Just as they saw what could be interpreted as a look of shock, they spun back on their heels, leaving the bar to be greeted by the warmth of Solace’s quiet summer night.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I posted! I'm definitely still getting used to writing in general, but I'm very proud of this one!
> 
> A few little notes:  
-I deliberately avoided any descriptors for Bloodhound, so you can imagine whatever headcanon you want for their appearance!  
-This would take place before Elliott joins the games (obviously), but still follows his backstory as close as I could  
-Thank you so much to Payasita for helping me beta this fic!! you're a lifesaver
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! <3


End file.
